


Caveat Emptor

by AJendryke



Category: Batgirl (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Arkham - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Undergraduate lessons finally come in clutch, aka this is why you don't double cross a rogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:41:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23519386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AJendryke/pseuds/AJendryke
Summary: There were seven steps to a sale that Jonathan Crane could recall from his brief venture into business during his undergraduate years. The first step to a successful sale was prospecting: one needed to find potential customers and decide whether they were in need of your service—and if they could afford what you had to offer.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	Caveat Emptor

**Author's Note:**

> I've been on a writing hiatus so long we had to slam this out. One day I'll get back to CRANE. One day.

There were seven steps to a sale that Jonathan Crane could recall from his brief venture into business during his undergraduate years. The first step to a successful sale was prospecting: one needed to find potential customers and decide whether they were in need of your service—and if they could afford what you had to offer. 

Angelo Murphy was a chief for the Irish Mafia, down in the Cape Carmine area. In fact, word had begun to trickle down from the upper-class criminals to those residing within the rodent-infested alleys that Angelo Murphy was primed to take over upon the retirement of the current Skipper, James Synnott. Oftentimes changes of power such as this were handled swiftly, to prevent too long of a buffer period—or layover, as some liked to call it—which could allow another criminal to step into place. Angelo Murphy needed to prove to the other members of the Irish Mafia that he was more than capable of handling himself. Angelo Murphy needed to do something big. 

Jonathan recently found himself becoming a fan of “big” things. 

Not a new change of behavior, of course. Jonathan began elaborating his plans to make them “big” ever since names such as Two-Face and Riddler started getting thrown around. No longer was his typical method of subtle manipulation and toxin injection working. He couldn’t lean into politicians' ears and play the role of Judas anymore; Jonathan needed to step up to the plate and play as Pontius instead. He needed the starring role, and truth be told, this was the only way to gain recognition for what he was capable of in these new times. And Jonathan was capable of a _lot._

Which is why the co-occurrence of both Jonathan’s need to change pace, and Murphy’s need to prove himself, seemed to be almost written in the stars.When Angelo Murphy’s subordinate approached him one evening and handed him a card that simply said ‘J. Crane’ with a phone number on the back, Murphy was not hesitant to call. 

The second step of a successful sale is preparation. You have to prepare for the first contact with the customer, research and collect all relevant information, and develop a presentation tailored to the customers needs. 

Murphy was a desperate man. Jonathan's practice had led him to become familiar with the scent of desperation over many years; it smelled of musk, of sweat and grime, of anger and adrenaline that was accompanied with shifty glances and trembling palms. One could almost taste the terror on their tongue if they looked upon a desperate man for long enough. It was a satisfactory flavor that pulled at your heart and your mind and left a desire in its wake. Once you've tasted terror, it leaves nothing but an empty hunger, and Jonathan was _ravenous_. 

A warehouse in the Industrial District seemed a suitable enough spot for a meeting to occur. The Irish Mafia were known to be hesitant about meeting in areas that were not open and did not have more than two exits. Jonathan credited that particularity to the time they tried to strike an arms deal with Cobblepot that resulted in the death of the previous Skipper and the premature coronation of Synnott. Anyone with half a brain cell knew better than to try and skim money off the top in a deal with the likes of Oswald. Besides, the scent of rotting wood, the constant chill that seemed to cut through all of his clothes, and the low groaning noise of the wind passing through the exposed foundation made Jonathan feel almost like he was back in his lab again. It was incredibly _therapeutic_. 

After you successfully prepare for a sale, there comes the stage of approach. This is when you first make contact with your client in a face-to-face (or face-to-mask, he supposed) setting. There are three ways to do this: a premium approach, in which the client receives a gift; a question approach, in which you prompt the client with a question; or a product approach, in which you give the prospect a free sample to review the service. Jonathan? Well, Jonathan always did favor the latter. 

“Mr. Murphy, I presume?” Jonathan’s raspy voice sounded filtered by the tears in the burlap mask he wore over his head. Pulling his hand away from the various bags he had been oh-so-lovingly caressing moments earlier, Jonathan centered his attention towards the group of men approaching him now from one of the two exits. They all looked typical of henchmen—tall, broad-shouldered, with angry scowls on their faces that seemed to waver upon seeing Jonathan's lanky form. Henchmen usually had to be exposed to many things during their services, and Jonathan had no doubt that more than one in this group had been exposed to what _he_ had to offer this day. All of them, of course, except the dark-haired man who stood front and centre. 

Besides being desperate, Murphy was also the most common looking creature that Jonathan had the pleasure of regarding. Once one had been exposed to the flash and the flair that the rogues of Gotham so proudly carried themselves in, to come face-to-face with someone calling themself a crime lord while dressed as though they had just crawled from the couch was a bit of a disappointment. Murphy was short, with a beer gut, and his hairline was already receding. When he arched his eyebrows at Jonathan’s question, it brought much amusement to the rogue to see that the hair-line was capable of going back even farther. 

“Mr. Crane, I presume?” Murphy’s parroting of his words only further proved to Jonathan that the man likely didn’t even have two brain cells to rub together in that head of his. The henchmen around him seemed to agree. Most people who had dealt with rogues before also knew better than to act disrespectfully in their presence—Jonathan, especially. 

“Your presumption would be correct, Mr. Murphy. I’m so glad that you managed to make it here unharmed with your, ah,” Jonathan paused and allowed the words to hang in the air as he surveyed the men again. He then let out an airy chuckle, “Groupies in tow.” 

Murphy’s eyes seemed to narrow a bit at these words, and his hands came to fold behind his back. 

“Best believe we made it here unharmed, Mr. Crane. I got more pressin’ matters on my plate to deal with than any unwanted _inconveniences,_ mind you.” Jonathan’s head tilted slightly at these words as Murphy’s gaze slid from him to the products he had displayed. A few steps forward, and Murphy’s hands unfolded to rest upon the chipped surface of the table. “Is this it?” 

“Not all of it, of course. These are just test samples.” Jonathan’s hand shot out and hovered over the bags again, as though he were uncertain which one to grab. Truth be told, he was eager to show _all_ of them, but Murphy seemed more keen on dealing with those other matters than allowing Jonathan to put on his show, and pointed to the bag nearest to him. 

“Mitchell, c’mere.” One of the henchmen, a man with a mop of curly blonde hair and an uncertain expression, took a few steps forward to stand beside Murphy. “I want ya to open this one here.” 

Mitchell looked as though he wanted to do anything _but_ open that bag, and Jonathan wondered if he should advise Murphy against doing such things. Then again, he wasn’t responsible for the henchmans’ life, nor did he particularly care for it. So when Mitchell wrenched open the bag and a burst of putrid green dust shot up into his face, soaking through his pores and entering into his mouth, the only thing Jonathan could really do is sigh. 

Then Mitchell started to scream. 

The fourth and fifth steps of a successful sale include presentation and the handling of objections. The presentation allows you to actively demonstrate how your product meets the needs of the customer. Jonathan felt strongly that, given the manner in which Mitchell was now thrashing on the concrete floor, and how Murphy was spouting off slurs Jonathan could only dream about, his product had been aptly presented. The handling of objections was a more tedious process. This was where he was supposed to ask Murphy if he had any concerns. He felt like the presentation may have raised a few. 

"Mr. Murphy, as you can see, the product is one of a kind, and incredibly effective.” Jonathan did his best to speak up above the howlings of Mitchell, but his voice had always been so soft and hollow, and raising it to anything above an indoor-level was not something he was capable of. So, without even taking a break from his speech, Jonathan pivoted and gave a swift kick to the fallen Mitchell’s head. The resounding crack echoed throughout the warehouse before blissful, and abrupt, silence followed suit. Murphy stared at him. Jonathan adjusted his sleeves as though this were a Sunday stroll and not a black market exchange. 

“As I was saying, the product is incredibly effective. What you just witnessed here was merely a pinch of what I’m willing to negotiate for you. Do you have any concerns with what I’m offering?” Typically, this would be the moment where paperwork would be pulled out of briefcases and pens handed out, but Jonathan had done enough paperwork in his lifetime that he felt no sense of urgency to do more. Murphy continued to stare for a moment, his jaw clenching and unclenching, before he rapped his fist twice on the table. 

“How long does it last?”

“46 to 72 hours. Of course, factors such as the victim’s body weight and health must be taken into consideration when calculating its longevity. I’ve found personally that those with heavier body weights tend to be able to tolerate higher doses as compared to those with lighter body weights. Also, a few patients of mine seemed to have an almost reduced susceptibility to the effects. I’m sure this won’t be much of a bother for whatever you have planned, however.” Jonathan pressed his fingers on the table in anticipation. He normally didn’t mind diving into the ins and outs of his product, but tonight he was the only rogue—to his knowledge—actually _doing_ anything, which meant if anyone caught wind of his actions the Bat would be on him within minutes. This was why it was always good to plan crimes in coordination with someone, else in case one got _caught._

Murphy seemed satisfied enough with that response and didn’t press any further. Nor did he bother to look down at Mitchell’s unconscious form by his feet. This was good. This was _very_ good. It meant that they would be done soon. 

The sixth step to a successful sale is closing. This is where you get the decision from the client to move forward, which Murphy’s curt nod assured Jonathan was the case. There are then three strategies to choose from: an alternative choice close, where the seller asks if the client will be paying upfront; the extra inducement close, where the seller offers something else to the client; or the standing room only close, where the seller emphasizes how time is of essence. Jonathan was short on funds and needed to establish himself as soon as possible, so the first option was the only viable one. Breakouts from Arkham were hardly cheap, after all. 

“Excellent! If you would so kindly place the money on the table here, I’ll lead you to the rest of the product.” Jonathan gestured to a space beside the various bags.

A heavy pause filled the air in the moments after Jonathan had provided his instructions. It weighed down, pressing harder, and harder, as Murphy stared at Jonathan with a slightly wide-eyed look. Then, Jonathan understood. Oh, he _understood._

“The money isn’t here,” was all Murphy offered. 

“The money isn’t here.” Now it was Jonathan’s turn to parrot back the words. A shiver of unease stirred among the henchmen. 

“The money won’t _be_ here, either.” Another sound soon filled the room, one that Jonathan had also come to recognize from so many years in the business. A clicking of hammers being pulled back on guns. Murphy's big thing wasn't to buy Jonathan's product and use it, no. Murphy seemed intent on stealing the product, thus showing that the Mafia is above the rogues, and then using it to make it clear that the Mafia is also above Gotham. Devious. If Jonathan wasn't so unamused already he might've felt a trickle of respect for the man. Too bad he had delegated Jonathan as his scapegoat. An unfortunate mistake. 

Oswald was not the first rogue to be crossed during a deal. In fact, contrary to popular belief, double-crossing was a common occurrence when it came to intra-underworld dealings. Criminals were dishonest by nature and God _forbid_ that change when dealing with one another. This posed a great inconvenience, because many of the rogues regarded themselves as _above_ criminals, Jonathan included. This was why over the years many of the rogues had begun to design their own foolproof methods to counteract such double-crossings. Riddler had his robots, Harley had her hyenas, Ivy had her plants, Oswald had an entire army of henchmen at his disposal, and Jonathan, well. Jonathan always liked to pick the locations he did his dealings at with a _purpose._

“Mr. Murphy, think hard about this. Although that may be a bit of a challenge for you.” Jonathan couldn’t stop the rueful grin from splitting across his face at the sound of Murphy’s snarl in response. The henchmen he had arrived with were now pointing a variety of weapons at Jonathan’s form. They looked uncertain, unwilling, and their eyes told Jonathan that more than a few were _terrified_ . This alone sparked that long-standing hunger in Jonathan’s gut that caused his grin to turn from rueful to damn near predatory. He bet they could see his teeth between the openings on his mask. He hoped that made things _worse._

“Show us where the rest of it is, Scarecrow, and we’ll make sure you keep a majority of your straw within ya.” 

It took a miraculous deal of self-restraint on Jonathan’s behalf to keep him from groaning at the man’s goad. He was getting quite sick of the jokes people kept mustering in association with his persona. If it wasn’t something about having a brain, then it was straw, or yellow-brick roads. It was, to be frank, rather demeaning. 

There were more pressing matters to attend to, however. The henchmen had inched their way closer to Jonathan, who slid his hands off of the table and folded them behind his back. This was partially for comfort, and partially because he didn’t need Murphy seeing the silver remote he held before the surprise was ready to be revealed. 

“This is incredibly unprofessional of you, you know? Synnott and I had a good standing relationship, and now? Well, Murphy, now you’ve gone and _fucked it._ ” There was a bite that came with the curse. Jonathan didn’t typically swear, but that comment about straw had _really_ wormed its way under his skin. “I would like to keep all my organs arranged in the way they are, though. You want to know where the remainder of the product is?” Murphy gave a curt nod, and if Jonathan’s smile spread any wider, he would be giving the Joker a run for his money. 

There were numerous benefits to always being permitted to pick the location of your meetings. One of them was convenience; the warehouse they were in now was located close to where Jonathan had established his lab. Another was time; it did not take long for Jonathan to arrive at the warehouse, nor did it take much effort to move the product. Yet another was the area itself. For example, Jonathan knew that there were numerous vents that led to the basement of the warehouse. These were used to filter air into the workers’ areas from the furnaces during the cold winter months. This also meant that if any chemicals were to spill in the basement, the toxins from those said chemicals would fill the entire warehouse in seconds— one of numerous reasons why the warehouse had been shut down. 

Jonathan knew that he could elaborate on what he intended to do. He elaborated all the time with Batman—every rogue did—but that was because Batman was _worthy._ Murphy? Well, to Jonathan, Murphy was just a piece of shit someone forgot to clear out. Which was why when he had hit the button on the silver remote and putrid green gas billowed upwards into the room, Jonathan didn’t blink twice. He did, however, dive behind the table as a flurry of gunshots from terror-stricken men with weapons filled the room. Gradually, the gunshots reduced in numbers, and the screams that had been like a cacophony moments earlier began to fade away, until there were no sounds except Jonathan’s breathing and a few lingering, echoed groans. His mask’s built-in filtration device was suddenly appreciated a lot more. 

He peered over the edge of the table. Several dark masses littered the ground, and numerous new holes decorated the warehouse walls. The green toxin had begun to move its way upwards out of the warehouse, and Jonathan knew it was only a matter of time before the Bat signal lit up the sky. He needed to get out of there, _now._

But first. 

The seventh, and final step, of a successful sale is key. Once a sale is closed, the job is not done. The follow-up stage keeps you in contact with customers, not only to repeat business, but to enable referrals as well. Maintaining relationships is both cost-efficient and key to expanding business. 

Jonathan hauled himself up and carefully stepped around the bodies of the henchmen. They had done a good number on themselves. A few henchmen's heads had been shot open by their panicked colleagues, and the blood let out a sickening squelching noise as Jonathan carelessly stepped through it. There were pieces of brain matter on the floor, and it appeared as though there was a tongue lying not too far from a corpse. These things mattered little, of course. What Jonathan was most focused on was the still shivering body of a man with a receding hairline whose beer gut stuck out not too far away. A few steps, and a sharp kick, and Jonathan was once again looking down at the face of Angelo Murphy. 

He had been shot in the leg, it seemed. 

Tragic. 

Jonathan leaned down and peered at the man. 

“Looks like I’m not the one whose straw came out, am I?” Jonathan chuckled and patted the man's cheek, smiling at the way it prompted another groan. He then reached into his coat pocket and fished around a bit before pulling out a card and tucking it into Murphy’s own front pocket. The card was white, pressed, with a single black line of “J. Crane” on the front and a phone number on the back. 

“Well Murphy, unless you have any questions or concerns, I think we’re ready to wrap this up. I’ve never been a fan of verbal sparring, and I think I’ve done enough to earn your business today. Give my regards to Synnott, will you?” At this, Jonathan straightened up and stepped past Murphy’s now-twitching form. He hadn’t taken enough time to enjoy the way Murphy had looked at him with so much _horror_ in his eyes. He almost wished he had a spare minute to soak in it some more. 

“Oh! And do remember to recommend me, yes?” He spared the man a flippant glance from over his shoulder. “My product is one of a kind, and incredibly effective. You’ll find nobody better than me.” 

With that, Jonathan adjusted his sleeves once more and made his way to the second exit of the warehouse—the one not blocked by corpses. He supposed that until the calls for his toxin came in and he could begin generating revenue again, he could just request a loan from Oswald. The free drink that was sure to come with his arrival certainly beat what he had just endured here.


End file.
